


Charcoal and Paint

by UnwrittenFantasy



Series: Solavellan Short Stories [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blossoming relationship, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Lavellan short stories, Lavellan/Solas Fluff, Painting, Short Stories, Slow Burn, Solavellan, solas x lavellan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnwrittenFantasy/pseuds/UnwrittenFantasy
Summary: Cole does what he does best, which is helping. In this case, he helps Aminthia and Solas become a little closer.--Another short story featuring Aminthia and Solas, with a special guest star: Cole. I love writing Cole. Enjoy!





	Charcoal and Paint

Stepping into the Rotunda, a plate of various sweets in her hands, Aminthia glanced around a moment before spotting Solas on a ladder. His concentration was on the mural he had spent the last several months on, a paintbrush in hand. She watched him a moment, not sure if she should interrupt. Perhaps she should come back later when he wasn’t busy-

“Oh, Aminthia. I did not hear you come in,” he called to her, setting his brush down. She felt her chest drop slightly, “I did not mean to barge in,” she muttered quietly. He shook his head, climbing down the ladder, “It is not a problem. I needed a moment to rest anyhow.” She brightened a little, glad to know that she didn’t disturb him. Walking towards him, her bare feet making no noise on the cold floor, She held the tray out, “Well I-I made these, and I was bringing them to everyone. I thought you would like some?” 

Solas glanced at the treats on the silver tray. They varied from small cookies to tiny cakes, all decorated with cute patterns. His eyes rose to hers, curiosity written on his features, “I did not know you could bake,” he said slowly. She blushed, averting her gaze, “Oh, well, I had some help. Josephine knew some recipes-” She stopped, her eyes staring past him. He rose his eyebrows, then went to turn and see what she was looking at. 

“Oh- Solas? Uh... W-would you try one?” She said suddenly, stuttering over her words. He paused, eyeing her with suspicion. Yet he took a cookie, carefully, and brought it to his mouth, taking a small bite. 

Her eyes darted behind him again, seeing the bright red cover of her sketchbook setting on his desk. Eyes widened, she almost dropped the tray, just barely keeping her hands steady enough from doing so. Solas was looking at her, obviously a little concerned, “Is something the matter?” He asked, once again turning to look. 

Then she did drop the tray, cookies and cakes splattering on the floor. “Oh- oh no,” she said, trying to sound upset. 

Well, she was. She had worked hard on those sweets and planned to give some to Dorian and Varric. Sera and Bull too. Well, everyone. And now they were ruined. She got down on the floor, starting to clean them up. Solas dropped down, helping her, “Are you alright?” He asked, grabbing her hand. Her palm was sweaty. He looked her in the eyes, trying to read her, “Aminthia? Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine. Just clumsy,” she replied. Sadly it was true. 

Somehow she had to get the book before he saw it. How did it even get there? She couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing the drawings inside. The ones of him, resting against a tree as he gazed at the sunset in the Hinterlands. Or the one where he painted on the walls. Creators, she would never be able to look at him without knowing he saw them. 

“I-I’m going to um.. go grab a broom,” she said slowly, coming up with some excuse to move past him. She could see the concern, and slight confusion, on his face as she stood up and hurried past him. She was a few steps from his desk before she heard him stand up. 

“Lethallan, what are you..?” She spun around, blocking his view from the sketchbook. He held the tray in his hands, little cookies and cakes set on top. His eyes studied her, making her cheeks grow redder as moments passed. She could feel the heat rise to her ears as well. Oh, Fenheldis. 

As stealthily as she could manage, she grabbed the sketchpad, hiding it behind her back. He regarded her carefully, “What do you have?”

“Nothing,” she said a little too quickly. He rose a single eyebrow, the slight twitch of his lip curling upwards into a small smile. “Really?” He walked towards her, making her take a step back, hitting the edge of the desk. Oh, Gods no. He set the tray down beside her, his chest mere inches from hers. She could smell his breath, his clothing. Paint, mixed with mint and cinnamon. Other herbs lingered. Her breath hitched in her throat. 

“Can I see?” He whispered, his face so close. 

She needed to escape. There was no way was she letting him see her book. 

He reached his arm around, to take whatever it was she was hiding, but she ducked and pulled the book to her chest and bolted away from him. She ran out of the rotunda, through the main hall, up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she threw her book under her covers and laid on top of it. She sighed heavily, turning to stare at the wall.

“Oh, I thought you wanted him to see them?" 

She flinched.

"He would like the one where he is sitting by the campfire. Flickering light on his skin, shadows dancing behind him. You like to draw his profile a lot. You like his nose. I know he would like the charcoal drawing smudged in that one spot. The smudge made it look better. Like a real artist’s work.”

“Cole,” Aminthia groaned, looking up from her blanket. He sat on her couch, watching her, eyes wide. She pursed her lips into a frown, “You put the book on his desk?”

“Yes. Because you want him to see. To be proud of your work. Because maybe he will ask you to paint the walls with him. His art is bold, beautiful. You stare at it often. Humming, singing, it sings to you because it helps you remember. Sometimes.”

Aminthia dropped her face into her pillow, exhaling slowly. “Maybe someday, Cole,” she mumbled. She doubted. “I don’t think he’ll like them. He’ll think they’re childish. That I am childish. I am not an artist like him.”

“Like who?”

She jolted, her head bouncing off the pillow to see Solas standing at the top of the stairs, Cole no longer anywhere to be seen. Her whole body must have been red from her blushing. She wanted to hide. There was a cave outside, she was sure. Perhaps she would move into it for a while. Or forever.

Solas smiled ever-so-slightly, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. “Aminthia, you are not childish. I could never see you as childish. You are little, da’len, but not a child.”

Aminthia felt like she wanted to scream. Into her pillow. That would look weird, however. Instead, she looked away, her fingers digging into the fabric of her blanket. She could feel the book underneath, its cover hard. She was unable to say anything. 

After moments of silence passed, Solas stood back up. He began walking away, “Alright then, Aminthia. If you do not wish to talk, I won’t make you-”

“Wait!”

He stopped.

She bit her lip, unable to look up at him. “I um... I have a sketchbook,” she started to say slowly, pulling it out from under the covers. He walked over, standing beside the bed. “May I?” He asked, motioning to sit down. She nodded, feeling the bed shift with his added weight. Handing him the sketchbook, she stared at the floor, face red. Oh, why was she showing him? Because she didn’t want him to leave, that’s why. Because she liked being close to him, smelling his tea and paints. To feel his electrifying presence nearby, tingling on her skin. And because she wanted him to be proud of her at something. She wasn’t a good mage, but maybe she was a good artist? Maybe?

She could hear him flipping through the pages, pausing at each one long enough to look at it. She couldn’t see, but his expression was one of surprise. When he finished, he set the book down. There was silence. 

“Lethallan?” He said at last. She barely looked up, worried he would disapprove. She shouldn’t have done this, after all, she should have let him leave. She should have-

“You, are a wonderful artist. I do not have the skills you do,” he said. What? She blinked at him, not really believing what she heard. He nodded, smiling at her. “Would you like to help me paint the rotunda? After you make more of those cookies of course. That is also a talent you should not waste.”

Her face lit up. “Oh- of course!”

Cole watched, always watching while unseen. He smiled. He fixed her hurt and made her happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a kudos or a comment if you liked this little story, and let me know if you want to see more!  
> There's a chance that I might make a mini-series of Charcoal and Paint, where it's just a bunch of one-shots that are about Aminthia and Solas being artists. I'm not sure yet, so we'll see.
> 
> <3


End file.
